


The Doctors at Harrington Lane

by Gimme_a_Hand_Scaevola



Series: So That We Might Live in the Light [2]
Category: The Monstrumologist Series - Rick Yancey
Genre: Domesticity, M/M, NSFW, Pining, Romance, Willinore - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-19
Updated: 2016-05-19
Packaged: 2018-06-09 11:06:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6903349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gimme_a_Hand_Scaevola/pseuds/Gimme_a_Hand_Scaevola
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After their percussive admission of feelings and fiery affair at the Society Colloquium, Will Henry and Pellinore Warthrop must return home, neither of them sure of what they now mean to each other. </p><p>Pellinore knows how he wants his new life with Will to proceed, but he cannot fathom how to bring it about. He had wanted everything to work itself out on its own, for Will to know implicitly what he wants. But they are soon to discover that making this work will take more than either of them know how to give.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Doctors at Harrington Lane

Pellinore and Will were exhausted by the time they returned from the colloquium. The two weeks in New York had been even more tiring than usual. Their days had been filled with a mutual worry over what the other one was thinking. Their nights with things the thought of which made Pellinore blush. 

He had spent the entire train ride back in silent imagination. Stalwart scientist though he might be, he was not immune to flights of fancy on occasion. He was trying to put together how this would all work when they were reinstalled in Harrington Lane. Will would sleep with him in his room, of course. He was in the master bedroom, there was no reason to take Will’s smaller quarters. 

Perhaps they might relocate their reading to the sitting room and lounge together on the sofa. Now that they were more than colleagues might Will wish to do familial things? Celebrate Christmas perhaps. 

Will shut the door of 425 Harrington Lane and both of them stood in the foyer for a long moment without moving a muscle. 

“Here, s- Pellinore, let me put your things upstairs.” 

Pellinore handed off his traveling bag and watched Will climb the stairs. Will would assume he ought to put them both in Pellinore’s room wouldn’t he? 

He walked to the kitchen and stared at the door to his laboratory. On the one hand, it had been more than two weeks since he had been down there. On the other hand, he didn’t have anything much to work on, as they had been gone, and they had been working themselves to the bone for weeks getting Will ready for his paper talk. 

His stomach growled and in a rare moment he thought that Will must be hungry as well. He turned away from the basement and opened the pantry to dig out some carrots and potatoes that had survived them being gone. Will always managed to turn odds and ends into edible soups. It couldn’t be _that_ hard.

He was struggling to cut through the carrots when Will reappeared in the doorway.

“You have to peel them first, Pellinore.” 

Pellinore looked up at him, glaring in frustration, “I don’t know how to peel carrots.” 

Will handed him a paring knife, “Just cut off the outside layer with all the dirt, stand over the waste bin.” 

Pellinore took the knife and began gouging chunks of carrots into the bin. Will snatched the knife back. 

“Not like that, come on, you’ve seen carrots peeled, it’s not that hard.” 

“Will Henry I am a world renowned scientist! I am hardly required to also know how to peel carrots!” 

Will rolled his eyes and disappeared into the basement. 

Pellinore followed quickly after him, “If you want to work I suppose we can skip dinner.” 

But Will was already turning back around by the time Pellinore reached the bottom of the stairs, “Here,” he said, handing Pellinore a scalpel, “It’s clean and everything, take the top layer of the skin off. I’ve seen you skin a ten foot cat and leave the hide in one piece, you can do carrots.” 

Pellinore took the familiar instrument with a tiny frown and returned to the carrots. Painstakingly he sliced the topmost layer of carrot off, bent over the work so he could use utmost care. 

An eternity later he looked proudly up from his perfectly skinned carrot to find the rest of the carrots and potatoes roughly peeled and cut into chunks. 

He stared at them incredulously, “I was doing it, Will Henry.” 

Will glanced behind him from the stove, “And taking a hundred years about it, Pellinore, I’m hungry.” 

Pellinore dropped the peeled carrot onto the cutting board and let the scalpel clatter onto the table, “You obviously do not require my help.” 

“Since when have you ever helped cook?” Will asked to Pellinore’s back as he retreated to his library. 

Pellinore did not respond. Three steps into his library and he realized he had overreacted, but he was not about to go back into the kitchen and apologize. 

He sat in the library pretending to read until Will Henry came to fetch him for supper. 

Supper was tense and quiet. Will was staring at his dinner without looking up. This was not the homecoming that Pellinore had imagined after their, he blushed even to think the word, affair in New York. 

Pellinore spooned some of the stew into his mouth glumly, “...This is very good,” he said when the silence became too much for him. 

“What?” Will asked, looking up, “Oh, thank you.” 

“....Thank _you_ ,” Pellinore replied softly. Many years ago John Chanler had instructed him to make sure he was polite when courting a woman. Surely he could apply the same tactics when courting a man. 

Will’s eyebrows shot up and he smiled warmly, “You’re welcome, Pellinore. I know- I know that before you were just trying to help. But admit that if I were going that slowly in the lab you’d have just done it for me.” 

Pellinore snorted, “Am I your kitchen apprentice then?” 

Will grinned and nudged Pellinore’s knee with his own under the table, “Snap to, Pellinore Warthrop.” 

Pellinore smiled wryly at him, “I do believe that this- this altered state of our- of- it will take adjustment.” 

Will got up and refilled his bowl, refilling Pellinore’s too without asking if he’d like more. He once again looked somber, “Pellinore...I...I don’t expect you to change.” 

Pellinore felt curling, sinking uncertainty shiver through him, “You are going to have to make your meaning more plain.” 

“I’ve known you for seventeen years, I’ve lived with you for eleven of them, I know better than anybody what you’re like.” 

Pellinore frowned, “And what am I like?” 

“You know very well what I mean,” he shot, “You get involved in your work and forget I exist for days. You don’t eat, you barely sleep. You have been known to make me put up with your howling oversized ego.” 

Pellinore dropped his spoon with a _plop_ back into his soup bowl, “I don’t know why you would ever put up with me then!” He swooped to his feet, ready to charge irately into his basement. 

Will caught his wrist, “For Christ’s sake, listen to me for a minute. I just told you that I know what you’re like. Do you think I knew any less what you were like two weeks ago when I- and then- when we-” He blushed. 

Upset as he was, Pellinore was gratified that Will was just as awkward putting words to what they had done as he was. 

Will forged ahead, “I’m telling you that I don’t expect you to suddenly become doting and dedicated and selfless. That’s not- I mean- I’d be happy if you stayed how you are. I like it.” 

In a letter he had once fondly told Pellinore, ‘ _You have not changed_ ,’ and it had filled Pellinore with warm affection, the same was happening now. “Oh- Well- That is ideal as you are correct that I am unlikely to modify my behavior.”

Will smiled, although it still looked fraught, “But- but Pellinore-” 

“Will?” 

He licked his lips, searching for wording, “Pellinore, I’m not your assistant.” 

“I know that.” 

“I- I am only twenty eight, my career is just starting.”

“I know that as well, Will.” 

“Do you expect me to choose you over my career?” 

If ever there had been a time that Pellinore wished he could go back in time and apologize for the agony he had caused Muriel it was in this moment. His logic told him of _course_ Will could not always choose him over his career. _He_ would not have - did not- choose a person over his career at that age. But regardless of this intellectual understanding, pain sparked through his heart. 

“Of- of course not, Will Henry. Of course not. Monstrumology is of utmost importance. I- I understand that there will be times when you venture out on expeditions that- that do not involve me. You are not my assistant and I am not yours. Our work will be occasionally independent.”

“Not all the time, I like working with you.” 

“You should, I am at the pinnacle of the field.” 

Will laughed, came around the table and kissed him. 

Pellinore melted into his kiss, surging upward, feeling desperate to cling to him. 

“I’m tired, Will. Let’s clean this up tomorrow. I will help you.” 

“I’ll remind you that you promised that.” 

They went upstairs and stood awkwardly in the hallway between Will’s bedroom door and Pellinore’s. Pellinore was flummoxed, he had just assumed that Will would come to join him in his room but Will was lingering at his own door, fiddling with the knob. 

“What are you doing, Will?” 

“Hm?” 

“Your room is smaller than mine.” 

Will stood at his full height, “My room gets better sunlight.” 

Pellinore blinked, he had expected that if there were to be any resistance at all that it would be resistance to sharing a room at all, not which room to share. “I have had my room for longer.” 

“You made me sleep in chilly loft half of my childhood.” 

“You said you _liked_ the loft.”

“Irrelevant.” 

“We sleep in my room, Will Henry.” 

Will’s eyes gleamed, he stepped forward and pushed Pellinore against the wall, letting his body roll against Pellinore’s, languidly he ran one hand through Pellinore’s hair and kissed him thoroughly.

Pellinore made a little noise of contentment and wrapped his arms around Will. He would admit that he adored being kissed like this. It was still a new experience for him. There had been a couple of times when he and Muriel and escaped her perpetually hovering chaperones, usually Emily Bates, and shared kisses in shadowy corners. But _she_ had been a shy girl of twenty and did not kiss like a broad and worldly Monstrumologist. He liked how Will’s hands grazed him inappropriately through his clothing and how he growled as he bit at Pellinore’s throat. 

He was fully entranced by the physical sensations of Will’s hands running down his backside and thighs, his teeth and lips feasting upon Pellinore’s throat and collarbone. 

Will shoved his knee between Pellinore’s legs and pressed his thigh up against him. 

Pellinore groaned, “Will! Ah!” 

Will rocked back and forth, putting rhythmic pressure on him, making him shudder and gasp. 

“Will- Will, please!” 

Will did not make him elaborate, as easy as if Pellinore were made of paper, he lifted him into his arms. 

Until taking up with Will, Pellinore had had no idea how delightful it was to be carried. Especially when along with the carrying came wonderfully fierce kisses. He hoped Will had no illusions about Pellinore returning the favor, as muscular and tall as he now was Pellinore would be lucky to be able to drag him, let alone hoist him into his arms. 

Will deposited him on the bed and kissed him, tongue mapping the inside of Pellinore’s tingling mouth as he made short work of his trousers and shirt. They had not yet been brave enough to attempt anything other that using their hands on each other and this is what Will did now. 

Pellinore pushed his hand away, “Get- too many- take off-” 

“Of course,” Will stood, looming over Pellinore and began unbuttoning his shirt, but he was being _so slow_ about it. 

“Are you teasing me, Will Henry?” 

Will’s eyes burned as he revealed his muscular chest with painstaking slowness, “Whatever do you mean, doctor?” 

Pellinore was breathless, “What have I told you about calling me that?” He had not intended for his voice to be so whispery. 

Will corrected himself in a husky growl that Pellinore had not been aware he could produce, “Do you feel teased, _Pellinore_?” 

“Yes.” 

Will unbuckled his belt and let his trousers slip to the floor, followed shortly by his underthings. Pellinore watched in rigid fascination as Will’s hand traced down his own stomach and down his length. Will dropped back his head and groaned. 

Pellinore exhaled hard through his nose, “Come here and I will do that for you.” 

Will finally acquiesced and lay beside Pellinore, reaching out to him. They tangled their legs together, an intimacy Pellinore was beginning to adore and their fingers gently touched each other. They writhed against one another until they both shouted out, Will gasping and stuttering, Pellinore whining high and keening while his hips jerked. 

It was Will, as it always was, who cleaned them up and pulled Pellinore into his chest. Pellinore was moments from falling into a very satisfied sleep when his eyes opened abruptly.

“Will Henry we are in your room!” 

Will laughed sleepily and pulled Pellinore closer to him, “Yes, we are, I forgot how observant you are.” 

“Let me up, I will go back to my own room,” he said, although he did not try hard to move. 

“Fine,” Will replied, turning over and leaving Pellinore uncuddled and cold, “But I’m staying here.” 

Pellinore sat up, looked back at Will was was radiating heat, and scowled, curling up around Will’s back and wrapping his arms around his waist. 

“Turn around, Will.” 

Will instead wriggled deeper into Pellinore’s arms, “I like this.” 

“You’re too broad for this, I am being suffocated by your back.” 

Will scoffed, “As though it’s any better for me, you’re enormously tall even if you are as skinny as a teenager.” 

“Will Henry!” 

“Stop whining.” 

Grouchily, Pellinore stayed put and let himself fall asleep. 

He would not remain asleep for long. He was awoken in the middle of the night by Will shoving him hard in the shoulder. They had not remained curled around each other as they slept. But now Will was shoving him nearly off the bed. 

“What, Will Henry, what!?” 

“You’re snoring, shuddup,” Will murmured groggily. 

“I can hardly help that, I was asleep.” 

“I’m helping it, turn on your side.” 

“If you wish to sleep-”

Will ignored him and wrenched him into his arms, holding him tight enough to keep him happily on his side.

“Now shush and go back to sleep.” 

Irately, Pellinore seethed and snapped, just as Will was falling asleep, “I am not sure I believe you that I was snoring. I have never snored.” 

Will laughed, “How would you know? You’re asleep. I think I, someone who has slept next to you many times, am a better authority. Let me tell you, you snore.” 

“So do you.” 

Will snickered, “Are you lying to make a point?” 

“...It was a rhetorical device.” 

Will erupted in laughter and, as much as Pellinore had not been joking, he was pleased with himself for making Will laugh. 

Will turned Pellinore over and leaned on his elbow, looking down at him, smiling, “Does that make you a buffoon, Pell?” 

Finding it easier to be affectionate in the dark of night, when the only thing illuminating them was dim moonlight, Pellinore stroked a hand through Will’s hair, “No, I told you, I was not lying, I was using a rhetorical device. If anything it makes me Cicero.” 

Will rolled on top of him, “I ought to smother you for that.” 

Pellinore purred, rather pleased, “I know you are making a feeble attempt at teasing me, but I rather enjoy that.” 

“I’m not crushing you?” 

“No,” he wiggled into a comfortable spot, “Soothing.” 

Will kissed his temple, “Well if you like it, I’ll stay.”

### 

The parlor was silent except for the occasional rustle of Will turning a page of his book. He had a small, contented smile tugging on his lips. He’d opened the window and the breeze from an unseasonably warm November day tickled at the small hairs on the back of his neck. Under his breath he hummed tunelessly. 

With no warning at all, Pellinore snatched the book from Will’s hands.

Will swore loudly and jumped, “Pellinore, _why_?”

“Stop reading in here.” 

“Why, Pellinore?” he reiterated, annoyed and confused. 

Pellinore recognized that it would be kinder to Will if he just explained what he wanted, but after standing and staring at Will, clutching his book, for a further minute, he lost courage and fled the parlor.

Will, as Pellinore had rather hoped he would, followed, “I want to read that book, Pellinore, you would skin me alive if I took your books away from you when you were in the middle of them.” 

Pellinore ignored him and did not stop bustling until he was in the sitting room, “Here. Read here.” 

Will stared at him, “Are you seriously demanding I leave the parlor? You told me I could have the parlor as my own. Christ, Pell, I know that it’s your house but my god I live here. You invited me to _live_ here. As a partner. I can’t just stay as a subordinate under your roof, I don’t give a damn if my name is on the deed or not it is _my_ house too!” 

By the end of his tirade his cheeks were flushed, his eyes gleamed, his chest heaved. Pellinore was rather annoyed by how disarmingly handsome it made him. 

Pellinore blushed, “I was hoping to read beside you, Will Henry, I had no intention of throwing you out of the parlor.” 

Will turned scarlet, “Oh. You might have just said that. “

“So will you?” 

Will took back his book and bit his lip, “...Later maybe. I..I want to finish this part, I have a few letters to write. Dr. Aveloughn wrote me again. I’m just-I’m busy, Pellinore.” 

“Yes, well I am busy as well!” he retorted to Will’s retreating back before slumping alone into the sofa. It would not have been difficult to just tell him to come to the sitting room to curl up together and read. Then Will might have been with him right now. 

Unhappily, wanting nothing to do with reading at the moment, he slunk into his basement. _Their_ basement. Will had a point. He had indeed invited him to live here. And here they were attempting to live and work together and sleep together during the night. In many ways, Will was not so different from a wife. He would not have begrudged Muriel wishing to claim the house as her own. Shouldn’t he like it if Will began to feel as though this were his home too? 

He thought carefully as he began making dissecting a small creature he had been sent. He had known Will for many years. But this was so nebulous and difficult. It was not like marrying a woman when one day she was not part of your family and the next day she was. Ought he put a portion of his funds into an account that Will could access on his own? Ought he have his name put on some of the checks? Could he without raising suspicion in town? 

But the house, the house he should start with. He had been thinking that maybe it was time to re-carpet the sitting room. He ought to ask Will to assist in selecting the carpet. He might go all the way and allow Will to have the final say. He didn’t care much what the carpet looked like in there, as long as Will didn’t choose something too abhorrent. 

The parlor was Will’s. The library was his. He felt inclined to claim the basement as well, but he didn’t have the heart to. He had been the one who had put Will down the path to Monstrumology. He’d asked him to practice the craft here in this house. He ought to let Will have equal access to their tools and equipment. 

He put down his scalpel and sat on the bottom step. He was surprising himself. He had only assumed that it would cause him incredible turmoil to turn over even a portion of this basement to Will. But the thought ’ _their tools_ ’ had made his heart sing. This was a space they had together. Where they spent many hours shoulder to shoulder. Where they refined the art they were both so good at. Their laboratory. Their basement. 

He felt such a surge of love and affection for Will but had no idea how to express it. Could he just barge back into the parlor and kiss him? Hardly. He would have to explain what had changed. Will might still be cross. He was filled with unquenchable desire to kiss and nuzzle Will, but didn’t really know what to do with it. So he stayed where he was, on the bottom step of their lab.

### 

“You smell foul, Pellinore. Come with me, have a bath.” Will had caught him coming out of the lab. 

He looked at his wrist where Will held it and stuttered nervously, head suddenly filled with the thought of them bathing together. It seemed impossibly out of reach. “ _W-with_ you?”

Will blushed when Pellinore responded with such resistance, “I- I only meant I had drawn you a bath.” 

“Oh.”

Pellinore turned and began the journey up the steps to the bathroom, Will did not come with him.

For the length of his bath he pouted to himself that had he been a bit bolder he might have had Will Henry lounging behind him to recline against. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He let himself imagine Will's hands wandering, exploring his thighs as he kissed his neck from behind. 

His own hand strayed under the water at the thought. Will’s hand would have been better but his own would suffice. He gritted his teeth to prevent making any incriminating noises, breathing hard through his nose as he stroked himself and imagined Will sitting behind him with his arms wrapped about him. 

He emptied the bath himself to get rid of any evidence and slunk downstairs in fresh clothes, bleeding from a number of nicks he had inflicted on himself shaving.

### 

Pellinore's eyes moved slowly over Will Henry as he slept. His muscular arm was curled around Pellinore's waist, his face buried into Pellinore's hip. Will was not sleeping particularly late, but Pellinore had been awake for hours. Sleep had mostly eluded him, but Will had been warm and he had chosen to remain abed reading rather than relocate anywhere else. Although sorely he wished he had some tea.

He had very nearly woken Will up to ask him to brew some for him. But how many nights could he rip Will from his sleep before he left him? He had spent five years alone and craving Will Henry's company, and that had been before there had been anything romantic between them. How could he risk Will Henry leaving him now?

Will slept without a shirt and now that light was beginning to trickle through the shutters Pellinore was finding it difficult to concentrate on his book. 

Finally, finally, Will Henry began to stir. He looked up from Pellinore’s side and smiled blearily, “Morning.”

Pellinore hesitated. He so very much wanted to run his fingers through Wills sleep tousled hair. But he kept them rigidly on his book. “Good morning, Dr. Henry.”

Will sat up “I know my publication in the Journal is intimidating, but I suppose I can allow you to call me Will.”

Pellinore scowled over the top of his book, “It what possible way would _I_ be intimidated by a scientist's single publication when I have-” Will had started laughing and it occurred to Pellinore that he and been teasing him. 

Will took the book from Pellinore's hands and made a show of marking the page to stave off any complaints. He ran a hand through Pellinore's hair and Pellinore took this as invitation, for his hands flew immediately into Will’s. Will smiled in such a way that made Pellinore's pulse jump. 

Will continued to tease, “You can call me all manner of things if you'd like.”

Pellinore understood quite well what Will Henry meant. He had once called Muriel things like that, and she had once called him her darling. It had always made him feel a rush of affection for her. He wanted to have the same effect on Will. He ought to have called him something to communicated how comfortable he felt sleeping curled in Will's arms, or the little jolt of joy he felt to walk in on Will cooking breakfast. He wished very much to let Will know how pleased and thrilled he was to have him where he was now, tugging at Pellinore's hair and kissing his throat.

But Pellinore instead growled “What about Book-Thieving-Irritant?” 

In response to that Will bit down on the juncture of his neck and shoulder. 

Pellinore called out in shock. “I do not know why you think I would enjoy being bitten Will Henry! I would not have remained sitting here passively if I had thought you would so abuse me.”

Will sat back on Pellinore's legs, “Was I too rough, Pell? I didn't mean to be. Only last night you seemed to enjoy it when I bit you.”

“I have not yet had any tea,” he grumbled, blushing to recall the previous evening. Although Will was perched nearly nude on his hips, those muscular thighs of his practically wrapped around Pellinore, he felt embarrassed at his affections the night before. He had been needy and vocal. He blushed darker to remember how Will had looked arching off the sheets.

Will kissed the spot he had just bitten “Are you imploring me to make you tea or be more gentle?”

Pellinore wanted him to continue with the soft kisses he was pressing now on his face and throat, but he didn't know how to say that aloud. He would sound so foolish. Will Henry would laugh at him. He would realize he had taken up with his awkward and capricious one time master and disappear in the night. 

Will Henry was a Monstrumologist, a good one, one who turned down an excellent opportunity to join an expedition. He was not John Chanler who had looked after Pellinore like a little brother, nor was he his father, James, who had had such reverence for Pellinore it had always been clear that God himself could not have pried him from his side. His closest analog in Pellinore's personal history was Muriel, but they too were so different. And hadn’t she left? How long would it be until a letter came, calling Will away and he followed? Or until some pretty girl or slim young man caught his eye, promising an easier life than one with Pellinore Warthrop? 

Would be called to have a family as James had been? A family that Pellinore could never offer him. It was true that for a brief period he had envisioned himself having a family with Muriel, but Will had proven that Pellinore Warthrop was not fit for child rearing. Not to mention the biological constraints he and Will were hampered by. Pellinore realized that Will would probably make a most excellent father, a chance he would never have saddled to Pellinore. 

There were so many things that could pull Will Henry away from him and how could he live with himself if he began the process? 

He only realized he had been staring at Will without speaking when Will broke the silence, “Pellinore? Do you feel well?” He rose from Pellinore’s lap, “I’ll make tea, I think there are some scones left, I’ll bring them up.” 

Pellinore wanted to catch his wrist and keep him there, but he did not. He wrapped the blanket around himself tightly. Now that Will was gone he felt very cold. The scones Will was bringing were Will’s own. The bakery had stopped making them and refused to begin again so Will took it upon himself to keep the kitchen stocked. He could not remember if he had thanked Will for it. 

He had to wonder which of Will’s kindnesses were done out of affection for him and which were done out of an apprentice’s old habit.

Will reappeared with two mugs of tea and scones. 

Pellinore didn’t invite him to stay, but he scooted over a little on the bed, not looking at Will. 

Will sat on the bed and handed Pellinore his tea. Pellinore allowed their fingers to touch when he took the cup from him. 

He sipped it, it was just how he liked it, Will always made it just how he liked it. He fiddled with the corner of his book and sipped his tea. He was halfway finished with it before he spoke, “It has occurred to me that you ought to go on the expedition you were invited on.” 

He stiffened as he finished speaking. Why had he said that? That had not been what he had meant to say at all. It was the opposite of what he wanted to say, ‘ _Please don’t leave me, Will. Kiss me, stay here, I need you._ ’ But he didn’t take it back after he had said it. 

Will put down his tea, “Do you think?” 

Pell regarded his long fingers, the nails were broken and dirty, they must be so unappealing, “Yes. You are a Monstrumologist first, are you not? You said as much yourself. Your career is in its infancy. You ought to go, you will make great strides toward science.” 

“You could accompany me.” 

That was laughable. While not old by any means, it would be difficult for Pellinore, now in his late forties, to keep up with the young men who were to be working with Will. And it would harm the professional credit Will would get out of it. He said, in a caustic tone, already dismayed at the prospect of Will Henry gone for so many months, “I was not invited.” 

Will set down his mug and stood up, “I-I’m glad you said something.” 

Pellinore could feel his throat constricting, and he heard how foolishly high pitched and tight his voice was, “Are you?” 

“Dr. -Dr. Aveloughn wrote me again, I think I mentioned, imploring me to come. He told me they were after a _Cetus_. Can you believe that? Snacking on fishermen off the coast of the Falkland Islands. There haven’t been reports of any in a hundred years.” 

“He was, I imagine, reiterating how valuable of an asset you would be to the expedition and to science.” 

“Yes.” 

“You should tell him you will go.” Pellinore felt as though he were stabbing hot knives into his belly every word. How could he let Will leave him?

Will didn’t answer for a long time, when he did his voice was guilty and low, “I already did.” 

Pellinore scooted back against the wall, “You _already did_? And when, pray tell, were you planning on telling me this? Or did you think you would disappear into the night without a word, leave me a note perhaps and go off with your friends laughing at how broken hearted you had left me!”

“No, Pellinore, of course not!” Will said, looking wounded and annoyed, “Why- I was going to tell you.” 

“When do you leave?” 

He blushed, “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? Tomorrow, Will Henry?!” He stood, his tea cup clattering to the floor and spilling tea on the carpet, “You leave tomorrow and you did not see fit to tell me! In what way is that not disappearing into the night!?” 

Will shrugged but didn’t have the nerve to grin, “Well I leave in the morning.” 

Pellinore was torn by two competing desires, both equally as strong. He wanted to send Will out of his sight, unable to deal with his callousness. In the same amount he wanted to hold him as tight as he was able for the last few hours that he would be here to be held. 

Unsurely, Will shuffled toward him, “ _You_ of all people can’t tell me I shouldn’t go. It’s the expedition of a lifetime.” 

Pellinore bit his lip. Was he beyond stalking away when he felt this sort of rise of emotion with Will? He could barely speak through the tightening in his throat. 

Will reached out, stuck somewhere between needy and defensive. Pellinore allowed him to take his hand but did not meet his eye. 

“How long will the expedition take?” 

“A couple of months I should think. No more than four.” 

“Four months?” 

“I know.” 

Pellinore took back his hand so he could cross his arms, “”I’m sure I will get plenty of work done while you are gone and I am not distracted.” 

Will crossed his arms too, “Yes, I’m sure you will,” he laughed feebly, “”Maybe I should stay away longer and let you finish that Encyclopaedia project you’ve been thinking about for the last decade.” 

Pellinore’s response was chilly, “Stay away as long as you are required to, it makes no matter to me.” 

“Doesn’t it?” 

“No.”

Will looked away, “I have to go send a telegram.” 

Pellinore nodded vaguely and let him leave. 

Muriel had always, unconsciously or not, doted on him more when he was freshly clean and shaved. When he spent a bit of money on good cologne and wore new and fashionable clothing. Would Will react the same way? He only had one day left with him. He wanted to spend it without this terrible coldness. Ought he freshen himself up in hopes of easing Will’s unhappiness? 

He made it halfway to the water closet before he felt too exhausted to think of bathing and shaving and adjusting fine clothing. He returned to his bedroom and pulled on pants that were wearing out in the knees and shirtsleeves that had immovable stains on the wrist and collar.

He caught sight of himself in the looking glass on his way out and felt the crushing burden of failure. He wanted a live rendition of the things he had fantasized over for the years between Will’s return to Harrington Lane and their trip to New York when they had made their feelings plain. But no one would rush to kiss him and cover him in affection when he looked so bedraggled. 

Indeed, when he entered the kitchen it was to find Will returning from sending his telegram. He glanced at Pellinore and then away. 

“I suppose you will be wanting breakfast before we go to the basement,” Pellinore said stiffly. He had now watched Wil Henry make pancakes dozens of times and he was confident that he could accomplish that simple breakfast without burning the house down. He turned away from Will to fetch the flour, but Will answered unexpectedly. 

“I- Oh- I was thinking of doing something other than work in the lab today.” 

Pellinore glared fiercely and Will looked down, “Going to spend the whole day drawing up expedition plans I suppose.” 

“I can,” he said in a little voice. 

Pellinore, who had been looking forward to a last day of working with him, reacted with indignation, “The kappa we have in only half completed! You want me to take my own dictation?” 

Will shrugged, “You really ought to hire an assistant.” 

Pellinore flinched away as though Will had burned him, “If you are not hungry then I will go to the lab on my own.”

He stomped into the lab with a slowness that was wholly unnecessary, hoping Will would call him back. But he did not

The kappa, unfortunately, was not interesting enough to distract him entirely from Will Henry, who no doubt worked away at his plans in the parlor. Pellinore was sure he was so immersed in thoughts of his expedition that he had forgotten entirely about Pellinore.

At around two, he put down his tools and, forgetting to wash up his hands, began the ascent up the stairs. He would just go and ask Will to make time to do something with him. That was not so hard to say aloud. 

He got to the top step, bloody hand on the doorknob, when he re-thought himself. Four months was a long expedition. Much longer than most. Granted it was an oceanic expedition but still. Was there not a chance Will only wanted to use it as an excuse to escape him? If he pestered him now would Will be forced to come out and say it? Then he would not even be able to wait for him with any degree of hope. 

He was not aware of how long he stood there brooding, but before he could make a decision the door was opened for him. 

“I made supper,” Will said, still not meeting his eyes. 

Pellinore hunched his shoulders, sure Will would know he had been lurking behind the door for what must have been a long time. He scooted into the kitchen and was dismayed to discover that it was dark outside already. They day was gone. His last day with Will had been spent cowering behind his laboratory door. 

He sat at the table and took the plate Will gave him. 

“Wash your hands, sir.” 

“I’ll do what I like.” 

Will didn’t protest again. He hung his head low where it was impossible to catch his eye and ate his supper. 

Pellinore desperately wanted this to be the sort of supper where Will gave him soft smiles and bumped their knees together under the table. He had not found a way to communicate to Will how much he enjoyed those tender moments with him. 

He scooted his foot forward under the table until it hit Will’s. Will pulled his back.

“I’m sure you’re thrilled to be going off on this expedition.” 

“Well- yes, I am. Dr. Aveloughn’s letter said he wanted me to head the lab work.” 

“Most of the rest of the team is more experienced, should it not be Dr. Fowler or Dr. Aveloughn himself? Both have a couple of years on you.” This was easy, talking about Monstrumology. 

He wilted for a reason Pellinore could not fathom, “I suppose it should. Dr. Aveloughn wanted it to be me.” 

“I looked in your medical case, your forceps are broken. You need a new pair.” 

“Why did you look in my medical case?” 

Pellinore frowned at him, “I was making sure you had all your tools in proper order, which you do not.” 

“I’ll get some at the first city we stop at.” 

“That’s foolishness, take my old ones.” They were a treasured possession of his, he had repaired them many times, when he was a boy playing at Monstrumology his mother had gotten them for him as a birthday gift. He’d taken them with him through school, even the part when he thought he would be a poet. 

Will snorted as though he were being slighted, “Sure, but they’re almost broken, I’ll still pick up new ones the second I have a chance.” 

Pellinore got up, leaving his supper half uneaten, “If you will not appreciate them then I will keep them!” 

Will was taken aback, “Doctor-”

Pellinore, feeling emotion closing his throat again, turned on his heel and stormed upstairs away from him. 

He angrily washed up and climbed into bed. By the time he was under the covers he was ready to apologize to Will. This isn’t how he wanted to spend their last hours. He would tell him as soon as he came to bed. 

But when he finally heard Will’s footsteps coming up the staircase and a thrill of excitement buzzed through his veins, it was not followed by Will joining him. The door to Will’s own room opened and then snapped shut. 

He felt slighted and cheated. He would spend uncountable nights alone and apart from Will Henry while he was on his expedition, he wanted to spend the nights he could with him. 

He could go to Will's room. He even rose from the bed to do just that. But he would not be able to bear it if Will turned him away. The sting of rejection would be too great. Instead he slunk back into his own bed and brooded away the night. 

The chilliness between he and Will did not abate with the morning. Pellinore felt even worse after another night without sleep. He dragged himself from bed unhappily, his many hours alone had made him resentful and cross with Will. Hadn't he only told him what was best for him and his career? Hadn't he only spoken as an authority in the field? And Will had thought it fit to punish him for that. 

Will was standing in the kitchen when he arrived, spatula in hand, watching a pancake burn and smoke in front of him. 

“Will Henry!” Pellinore exclaimed. 

Will jumped and swore, moving the pan swiftly off the stove. 

“You ought not cook when you are so distracted.”

Will raised an eyebrow, “I'm not sure you really have any authority to comment on my cooking.”

Pellinore scowled, “Perhaps next time you would rather I allowed you to burn down our house.”

Will extinguished the stoves flame and regarded Pellinore, “ _Our_ house?”

Pellinore stuttered a recovery, “M-my house. I meant- you live here- ah.”

There was a version of events that Pellinore imagined where bravely restated ‘Our house,’ he rushed upon Will and kissed him. And Will would whimper and step forward, pressing Pellinore against the kitchen table, their bodies hard against each other. For a moment he thought that as filthy as their kitchen floor was, it would suffice for a final moment of intimacy before Will left. It was the version he very much wanted to bring about. But it demanded he make a move. He did not. 

“I have to finish packing,” Will muttered and shuffled back upstairs. 

Why had he thought this would be easy? Dealing with Will had never been easy. Dealing with Muriel had never been easy. They seemed to expect something of him that he could never give. Will was supposed to understand how long have they live together? How long has Will been putting up with him?

Pellinore stared for a long time at the mess in the kitchen. Finally, listening to Will clattering around upstairs, wanting some excuse to join him, he put the pan back on the stove and poured batter onto it. 

A few minutes later he knocked tentatively on Will’s door. 

It opened before he finished knocking, “Doctor?” 

“Will Henry,” he looked at the plate in his hands, “I- you will need sustenance today...for your travelling.” 

Will smiled a little and took the plate of three misshapen pancakes, one far too big, one far too small and positively drowning in syrup, “Thank you.” 

He stepped back in clear invitation, Pellinore shyly came into the room. 

“I leave in a few hours, we’re meeting in Philadelphia to finalize our plans, then heading out from there.”

Pellinore tried not to sound as longing as he was “Will you write when you are coming back?” 

“I don't know. Am I welcome back when I return?”

Pellinore averted his eyes “Yes, yes of course you are.”

Will closed his expedition bag, “I'll write, I’ll try to write more than once.”

“I shall as well.”

Will shrugged “You can try, but we’ll be moving around alot. I might not get them.”

“Use every precaution.” A weight dropped into Pellinore’s stomach. He had wanted another night. Will could- god- Will could _die_ on this expedition. He couldn’t let Will leave like this.

“Try not to starve to death while I'm gone.”

“I was perfectly fine for the many years without you,” he murmured grouchily. 

He stood silently, picking at his burnt pancakes, “I need to go, my train leaves in half an hour.” 

They were at the front door before Will spoke again, “Maybe you shouldn’t write, we don’t want the other Monstrumologists who are with me to get suspicious.” 

Pellinore nodded, “That is- that is- You are quite right. I will speak with you when you return.” 

Will nodded and put a hand on the doorknob to go. Pellinore’s breath spluttered in his chest, this was the last he would see Will for months.

“Will Henry!” 

Will’s eyes darted up to his. 

“I- Your cravat is crooked. My god, you look like an urchin.” Before Will could set down his bag to fix it, Pellinore stepped forward and fixed it himself, lingering over the task. Still he could not find the words he needed. He ought to have written something down and memorized it. 

“Be safe, Will Henry.” 

Will stepped away from him and left through the front door. He walked down the porch steps and up the path to the street. Only then, at the very edge of the street, too far in the public eye for Pellinore to do anything but stand stiffly at the door, he turned and bid Pellinore goodbye with a curt nod. 

He watched Will go all the way up the street.

He closed the door and sat on the floor, leaning against it. Was this it? The termination of his love affair with Muriel had been so final. And Veronica had let him do the leaving. This was worse, this was so much worse. He did not know how much hope he ought to have. Even if Will survived, was he really coming back? 

He slipped down onto the floor and stared at the ceiling, who would come back to be with _him_? He did not even feel as though he was with Will Henry. There were rules and protocols for courting a woman. He’d made John write them down for him when he was courting Muriel. And Veronica had done most of the leading in Venice. What were the rules for a covert affair with a man? 

John would have known what to do. He might not even have been too horrified that Pellinore was involved with a man, he must have suspected during all those years they lived together as close as brothers. He could have spent Will’s time away in New York with John, and come back knowing how he was supposed make Will Henry understand the confused tangle in his heart. 

A fresh wave of grief over the death of John Chanler consumed him, coming to life after years of remission. 

He didn’t know how long he laid there, staring at the ceiling in the entryway and wallowing in his heartache. He didn’t get up until the postman slid mail through the slot that landed on top of his chest. 

It couldn’t have been from Will yet, even if it felt like he had already been gone for a millennia, so he didn’t bother to read it. Just stood up and let the mail fall to the ground. He trudged into the kitchen and stared at the burnt pancake that Will had not cleaned up from the kitchen. He walked over and dumped it into the garbage and made himself a pot of tea. 

For once in his life, he did not feel like going to his lab. Instead, he took his tea and dropped into Will’s chair in his parlor. Becoming a doctor of Monstrumology had turned Will into quite a reader, and he often spent many hours in this chair. It smelled like him. Pellinore curled up in it pathetically and finally slept, his tea cup slipping out of his hand and spilling its contents onto the carpet.

### 

_May 3, 1905_

_Will,_

_You left your white coat in the lab. I suppose you do not need it on an expedition. I haven’t moved it even though you left it on my hook. You left before you could manage the mail on your desk. I had to send a number of replies in your stead and now I am forced to open all your mail and make sure you haven’t overlooked anything else. It was very unprofessional to your colleagues. Very irritating to me. You also left laundry and dishes unwashed in your bedroom. Don’t expect me to tidy up after you._

_Yours,_

_Pellinore_

### 

It was fortunate for Pellinore that such an interesting thing happened so soon after Will left. Six days after their awkward goodbye he had finally pulled himself out of bed and looked through a couple of the many newspapers piled up on the porch. 

No one had ever been so delighted at the report of four children devoured in New Jersey. He began at once with the research, there were things to be done. If Will Henry could go off and have expeditions alone then so could he.

### 

_May 29th, 1905_

_Will,_

_I finally had to clean out the fetid pit you abandoned in your bedroom. You had used my favorite tea cup. I was forced to hire a cleaning woman to finish the task. The house is cleaner than it has been in years, no thanks to you. You also did not return the book I lent to you. I was in need of it and it was not where I had left it nor in any of your desk drawers. I have had to procure myself a new one at great personal cost._

_Yours,_

_Pellinore_

### 

He had called the Society and told them he would look into the affair in New Jersey. He had told them something else too, something entirely necessary but that he was not sure if he really wanted. He needed an assistant. 

He would be fifty soon, he couldn’t exactly go charging off _alone_ into the wilds. That was asking to be mauled to death. Reports of his death might reach Will Henry and wouldn’t _that_ interrupt his ‘expedition of a lifetime.’

It took about two days for calls and telegrams to start coming in. They came in droves. Young Monstrumologists-in-Training clamoring to work with him. Of course they were, it was an honor to work with him. He was the most brilliant Monstrumologists that had lived in a century. 

Of course, most of them were terrible. 

Thomas Putnam, the first that he interviewed, had not been able to differentiate the liver from the heart. He had had to go. 

The second had announced his name was ‘Henry James.’ Pellinore had slammed the door in his face. 

The third, he suspected, was a mole someone had sent to check up on him. 

It was not until the nineteenth interviewee that he had found someone he could tolerate.

### 

_July 4th, 1905_

_Will,_

_There are fireworks coming from the country. I could see them from the loft window. I believe it is the sort of nonsense you would have enjoyed. I am told New York City has quite a show these days but there would be no use to go alone. I have fewer friends there than I once did. You failed to write out your recipe for raspberry scones, the ones I procured from the new cleaning woman were subpar, barely worth eating. I sorely wish you had imparted your skill onto me before you had disappeared into the night. I know you will say I have no skill cooking but I am confident that I could manage them if you had only taught me._

_Yours,_

_Pellinore_

### 

A Dobhar-chu’ imported from Ireland and escaped. That had been what was eating local New Jersey children. He and his new, and utterly incompetent, assistant Carl Jacobson had discovered. 

He had been, at first, thrilled at the discovery. He had always wanted to work with Dobhar-chu’. There was something about the great water hounds’ fur that had always been a mystery. He fully intended to solve that mystery. 

But Jacobson had bungled it. After shooting prematurely they had lost the corpse into the swamps. He had railed and screamed for hours at the young imbecile before throwing his bag at him and returning to Harrington Lane alone.

### 

_September 19th, 1905_

_Will,_

_I am putting the finishing touches on my latest paper. After you abandoned me with little more than a wave, I employed a young Irishman to fetch me a sample. You know how fiercly the Irish defend hunting rights on their turf. It was the shipment I had been waiting for and it did not come cheaply. A Dobhar-chu’ from Ireland. I would have greatly appreciated the chance to go and collect it myself, but a series of events made me believe that fighting with the Irish would be a waste of my time._

_I have been analyzing their fur in regards to the legends of its protective properties. It is a water creature, you know, you would have been fascinated. It excretes the same oil otters do to remain dry while submerged and has a double coat standard to most aquatic furred creatures. But the strands of the fur themselves are unique. Their tensile strength is unprecedented. You will see a complete discussion of my findings in the Journal. I have had no word from you so I can only assume that you will not be joining me for the colloquium this year. That is a pity as I will be making a presentation. I of course supported your presentation and I had expected you would extend the same courtesy to me. I see now that you will not, your own expedition obviously takes precedence._

_I expect Pelt will allow me a foremost spot both in the Journal and at the colloquium. I shall write and tell you how I find New York. At least without you the costs will not be so great. Only one train ticket, meals for one, though the room cost will be the same of course. Perhaps not. Maybe you would have demanded I spend for an extra bed while we were away. I have no idea as you have so stalwartly refused to write to me in any fashion._

_Yours,_

_Pellinore_

### 

He never even finished writing his speech. Will had said four months. He had expected him home in August at the latest. He had said _four months at most_. Pellinore had had dreams of taking Will to New York to celebrate his return. 

He would impress him with his speech and his momentous discovery. Will would regale him with stories of his expedition. They would be in New York where their affair had started. He would take out a room in a hotel his colleagues did not frequent. There were places in little corners where he could go in New York that they would not question two men entertaining each other. He had spent every spare moment of his summer dreaming of it. Waiting on it. It would make this long and terrible separation bearable.

### 

_November 12, 1905_

_Will,_

_You will be disappointed for me to hear that I was too ill to attend the colloquium. All of my work for naught. I will still be published, they would never rescind that, but I could not even gather myself to make it a few days to New York and give my speech. It is a pity, as I am sure everyone there was sorely disappointed to miss it._

_Yours,_

_Pellinore_

### 

_January 1, 1906_

_Dr. William Henry,_

_There comes a point when you cross the threshold from rude to childish. How long will you go without writing me back? Three from your expedition have returned already and will not tell me how it went. Why are you still abroad? This is beyond the pale. I understand I am no longer your better and do not require your submission but I hoped we would extend each other at least the barest amounts of respect. You know people will begin to suspect that you have been killed._

_Sincerely,_

_Dr. Pellinore Xavier Warthrop_

### 

_April 6, 1906_

_Will,_

_I miss you terribly._

_Pellinore_

### 

Pellinore took his usual seat in the parlor. He had pulled the chair around so it could look through the window and when he was thinking he stared up the lane. He had slept very little in the last months. Deep purple circles were dug under his eyes. He did not understand why not a single of Will Henry’s companions had returned his missives asking about Will’s whereabouts. Seven of them had embarked on the sea voyage, four of them were now reinstalled with their families and not taking letters. 

He had half a mind to go to their homes and wring their god be damned necks until he was told the truth. 

What was the reason for Will’s delay? Had he found something of particular interest? Too big maybe to transport back to the lab? Or was he on the trail of something that the others had given up on? That would be why they wouldn’t talk, ashamed they had abandoned him to the hunt. 

Movement on the end of lane made Pellinore jerk out of his seat, standing at the window as taut as a bowstring, peering at the approaching figure. He tried as hard as he could to transform the stranger’s age drooping shoulders into Will Henry’s youthful, muscular ones, but he could not quite trick himself. Yet again, Will Henry was not coming home. He dropped back into the chair. 

But the figure did turn up the walk to number 425 and moments later a knock came at the door. 

Pellinore did not bother to fix himself up. He answered with his ratty beard and greasy hair, his shirtsleeves unbuttoned and unlaundered. 

“Dr. Pelt?” he asked, surprised at finding him on the doorstep. 

“Dr. Warthrop,” he said, doffing his hat and stepping inside, “You don’t seem to have improved since we spoke in October.” 

“Have you heard anything about Will Henry?” 

He frowned and looked at his hands, “No.” 

Pellinore scowled, “That foolish boy, he ought to have come back with his companions.” 

Pelt looked at Pellinore, “Yes, Pellinore, I think we might begin to conclude that something has happened to him.” 

Pellinore waved his hand dismissively, “Nonsense, nonsense, he is on a good trail. He doesn’t want to give up yet. I taught him the utmost tenacity.” 

“Has he written you?” 

Pellinore snarled bitterly, “That is irrelevant!” 

“So he has not. Pellinore, I know the two of you were close. Everyone was surprised when he moved back here. I’m- I’m sorry Pellinore.” 

“Sorry for what?” 

“I’m sorry for your loss.” 

Pellinore struck like a drunken viper, no preamble to his wide, ungainly punch at Pelt’s face. “Get out!” 

Pelt had no trouble eluding the wild attack, “Pellinore,” he reprimanded, “You’re a monstrumologist. You knew this was a dangerous expedition. I know it’s a hard thing, but he made it to twenty seven, it’s a good run. And he was a damn good monstrumologist.”

Pellinore took another rabid swing, driving Pelt back out the door, “Get out ! Do not come back! Get out!” He slammed the door so hard the transom window rattled. 

He breathed like a rampaging beast in the entryway before storming to his basement. He had no time for that nonsense, he had _work_ to do. The case on his necropsy table would not wait for something as paltry as sentimental worry. It required his attention. 

An indeterminable amount of time later, still standing at the necropsy table forcing himself to continue working, stars blinked in his eyes and he saw himself cut into his own hand with the scalpel. It took him a moment to realize it was happening or to feel any sort of pain. He swore when he did and lurched back, dropping the scalpel on the table. He was lightheaded while cleaning out the wound and had to sit to bind it. 

It was dark when he get upstairs but that didn’t mean much, he had no idea what day it was. Someone, the maid probably, had left something for him to eat. A few days ago by the taste, but it would sustain him. 

“James, put the kettle on, snap to,” he said generally behind him. 

Ten minutes later, when there was no kettle whistling, he turned his head to shout again, “Jam- ah. Yes, of course.”

“There is a book you had, Will Henry, I need it.” He shuffled, hand throbbing, into Will’s parlor and sat behind his desk. He had intended to rifle through the desk until he found what he was looking for, but the very second that he sat down, he fell asleep. 

He awoke with his face nestled on scattered pens and papers. 

“Will Henry, you really ought to keep your things more organized,” he mumbled. He began sorting through the papers, hoping to put them in some semblance of order. It was not his strength. It was Will who usually organized _his_ things, not the other way around.

“I didn’t know you dogeared your books where you had questions, Will Henry,” he said, addressing a book he had long ago lent to Will. He flipped it open, and extracted a torn corner of paper with Will’s precise writing on it, “What do you mean, ‘Why do they have antlers?’ Will Henry? Is that not obvious to you? It is because- oh devil blast it- that is a good question. I am not-” He rose and took the book to the library to immerse himself in answering that question. 

It took him thirteen days to determine the answer. When he did he wrote it in his illegible scrawl and tucked it in the book with Will’s little scrap. 

The book had three other little notes. Six further days later and those were resolved as well. He closed the book and all its little notes and put it on his own shelf. 

Will Henry had left lots of notes in very many books. Pellinore could not simply allow them to go unanswered. Will Henry may have long outgrown the role of a student apprentice, but Pellinore was still the Senior Monstrumologist. He ought to do his best to answer Will’s questions, especially now that Will was asking such worthwhile questions. One of these might lead to a new paper. 

Transferring Will’s books, one by arduous one to his own library ate up the summer of 1906. He was a waif of a man by September, having lost more than thirty pounds off his already slim frame. He had finally consented to a haircut and a shave, he told himself it was for the sake of comfort alone. But he did not want to look too unwelcome. He didn’t want to be repugnant when Will finally came home. 

Pelt had come back more than once spouting that nonsense. Pellinore had turned him out each time. What did Pelt know of Dr. William James Henry? _He_ had not been there to see him kill an anthropophagus with only a knife at the age of eleven. _He_ had not seen him save Pellinore from John Chanler as Chanler raved, nor fight off the bitter cold with him. _Dr. Pelt_ had not heard how Will’s voice lit up when he was on the hunt, when he knew a discovery was just beyond the next corner. Only Pellinore knew how his eyes looked backlit and wild when he was near his best. 

They would look like that now, Will Henry must be close to his monster by now. It had been so long. 

He must be getting very close to where he wanted to be. 

From the library, he heard the clatter of the mail being pushed through the slot. He dropped his book immediately and shuffled to the mail. He did this every morning. And every morning he was disappointed. 

He riffled through the few letters and, finding none from Will Henry, dropped them again on the floor with the small pile of other letters that he had allowed to accumulate there. He was halfway to the kitchen for tea when he realized what he had just thrown away. 

He raced back to the pile of letters, skidding a few feet in his stockings, and snatched the letter from the top of the pile. 

The return address read: Dr. Bertram Fowler. He had traveled with Will. Pellinore had written him many times. Finally, there would be some word. 

_October 8, 1906_

_Dr. Warthrop,_

_I do so regret having to send this letter. I am given to understand by the nature of the letters you sent for him that you were under the impression that the two of you were quite close. It may not be my place to mention that he spoke of your infrequently and in only the manner of a one time master. He gave none of us any reason to believe that you ought to be contacted regarding the outcome of the expedition._

_The nature of the hunt was, as is usual in Monstrumology, quite dangerous. However, in the late months of 1905 it became apparent that the cost of continuing and risk of danger was far greater than the chances of reward. Already we had been nearly shipwrecked thrice and only spotted a single glimmer of our quarry. We put it to a vote and six of the seven of us determined to return. Dr. Henry was not to be swayed. He railed against us for cowardice and lack of dedication to science. He was most unjustly firm, I believe. He refused to board our return ship when we docked on the eastern Falkland Island. He fully intended to continue his hunt although he had no funds to continue._

_We forced him to promise to telegraph us and left him with enough money to feed himself, but we heard nothing from him. It was not the time of year to sail, and with no other scientists with him I have only doubts about his wellbeing. I would not have written to you concerning him, as he made no indication that he wished for you to remain informed, but Dr. Pelt demanded it of me. I, of course, wish that Dr. Henry is found in the peak of health._

_Your Servant,_

_Dr. Fowler_

_P.S. You may consider that it was the hand of God who separated you from him, Dr. Warthrop, I am not naive to the ways of the world and your letters did not go unnoticed. I believe that it would be in the best interest of Dr. Henry’s soul and your own if you did not pursue him._

Pellinore seethed over the letter. How dare he! How dare he imply what he was implying! How dare he suppose that Pellinore would not go after Will. Of course he would go after Will. How had no one told him that Will had been abandoned! 

But the other things he had said, ‘ _He gave none of us any reason to believe that you ought to be contacted regarding the outcome of the expedition,_ ’ it burned a wound into his heart. He attempted to convince himself that it was only that Will was attempting discretion. But he could not quite manage it. 

It did not matter. It did not matter if Will Henry did not want to see him. If _he_ had been left for dead on his own, then Will Henry would have come after him, he was certain of it. He crumpled the letter fiercely and threw it against the wall, then he bounded upstairs. 

Will Henry needed him. 

He was shaved, presentable, and packed by the time the train left the next morning for New York City. He had no intention of speaking any further to Dr. Fowler. He would start in the Falkland Islands and find the ship that Will Henry had left on. Perhaps this would show Will that he had meant for there to be something meaningful between them. 

The voyage was long and cold. It was late October on the Atlantic after all, and he spent the majority of his trip curled in his stateroom, wrapped in as many blankets as he could lay his hands on, reading and rereading his sparse books on the _Cetus_ Will had come after. 

A knot had formed in his stomach which did not release. Will, his Will Henry, was missing. And everyone thought him dead. Dr. Pelt, Dr. Fowler, the rest of his expedition. Will Henry was not dead. He was not going to lose another Henry, he was not going to lose another person that he loved.

Burning tar bubbled nastily under his skin. Why could he not have told him that? Why had he not explained to Will Henry that he loved him? How had he not realized that he did? Why did he have to wait until he was on the brink of loss? 

Muriel had once called him a coward and he had never felt that to be more true.

He knew with utter certainty that if he lost Wil Henry there would never be another. He would die alone in 425 Harrington Lane with no one left to mourn him. Will Henry who never demanded he choose between him and work. Who stood beside him and worked with him. Who could be found sometimes in the small hours of the morning in the basement laboratory. 

His heart churned under his ribs. He wanted Will Henry with every atom in his flesh. He tilted to the side and let himself tumble into the cot bed in his stateroom. He screwed shut his eyes and imagined that Will was laying beside him. Could Will comfort him the he himself was missing? 

How often had he told Will that he was indispensable to him? How dare he leave. 

He kept his eyes closed until he fell into a fitful sleep.

### 

Was it Pellinore Warthrop or was it someone else who stayed on the frozen docks all hours of daylight for days and days and days demanding information from ship captains? How was it that no one knew anything? How could they not remember _him_? How did they not remember his soft honey eyes and his laugh that eased any pain? 

How could he not be here?

How could he be gone?

With every captain, every steersman, every barman who shrugged and told him they couldn’t remember ever seeing him, Pellinore felt Will Henry slip deeper and deeper into the grave.

### 

Slowly Pellinore descended the cold, damp staircase. The guard’s heavy footfalls echoed behind him. 

He was not dead. He was here. He had been told at least that he was here. 

The lamps left a sickly light flickering over the walls and the chill was seeping into Pellinore’s fingers. He went where he was told, all the way to the back and he peered into the cell. 

“Debtor’s prison, Will Henry?” 

Curled wretchedly in the corner, Will’s head snapped up. He was dirty, he had a beard Pellinore had never seen before, “...Doctor?” 

The guard unlocked the door and Pellinore slipped inside. He crouched beside Will and could not help but smile. Meager and pitiful though Will might be, he was alive. He brushed the filthy hair out of his face, “You know, you can call me Pellinore.” 

Will blinked at him and very slowly he smiled. 

Pellinore’s heart exploded in emotion at the sight, “Come now, Will Henry, everything has been paid, come now, it’s time to go home.” 

Pellinore wrapped his arms around him and helped him to his feet. Will leaned heavily on him and he had never been more pleased to be so burdened. 

“Must you lean so much on me?” he asked as they stepped onto the street. As happy as he was, Will was at least fifty pounds heavier than he was and he practically needed to be dragged. 

Will spoke with a scratchy voice, “I thought I was your cross, Pellinore. Aren’t you supposed to drag me through the street?” 

“Is this the time, Will Henry?” he asked scathingly, although his heart soared that Will felt fine enough to tease. 

He dragged Will to the hotel room he had taken out and laid him on the bed, “I’ll run you a bath. You smell like a sewer.” 

Will nestled into the soft blankets and was asleep by the time Pellinore came back for him. He nearly didn’t wake him, but he smelled truly terrible. 

“Up, up, come now, Will Henry, snap to,” he commanded gently, easing off his ragged clothing and helping him to lower himself into the bath. 

He was not as bad off as Pellinore had feared. No ribs sticking out, still strong and suntanned from his days aboard a ship, just hungry and half frozen. 

The first bath got rid of the mud and dirt. Pellinore scraped Will’s body clean, scrubbing it softly and rinsing out his hair. With utmost care he tilted back Will’s head and shaved the tangled beard. Will Henry, he knew, preferred to be clean shaven, and he preferred Will Henry clean shaven. 

Clean and shaved he ran him a second bath of piping water so he might coax some more warmth into his fingers and toes. 

“You’re already wet, Pell,” he said sleepily, “Come in with me.” 

Pellinore ran his fingers through Will’s clean hair, “Is that what you want?” 

“I missed you.” 

Pellinore found himself unable to resist Will’s wishes. He unsurely dispensed of his clothing and slid into the bath. Greedily, Will pulled him to him, his arms tight around Pellinore’s waist. 

Pellinore’s throat tightened and he could not help but nuzzle into Will’s chest. “I thought you were dead.” 

Will’s arms tightened around him, “I failed, Pellinore. I never found it.” 

“Yes, I know, I know. Everyone fails.” 

This was such a startlingly un-Pellinore-ish thing to say that Will tilted his head up to look at him, “Do you feel alright, sir?” 

Pellinore scowled, “Long habit though it might be, I dislike being called sir while you’re cradling me in a bathtub.” 

Will laughed and it was the most beautiful thing Pellinore had ever heard. He turned and kissed him. 

Will crushed him against his chest as Pellinore pressed his lips to Will’s again and again, feverishly. _Will_ was never feverish, he held him in a grip full of purpose and conviction. His lips were chapped but Pellinore could not get enough of him. Here he was. After so long, here he was smelling so very much like, _Will_.

Pellinore lay back against Will’s chest and held him tightly, rejoicing in the mutual embrace. “You will come back to Harrington Lane?” 

“Yes,” Will said, “Come on, get up, I’m getting all wrinkled.” 

Contentedly Pell rose from the water. They both dried off and, failing to redress, collapsed into the bed, worming their way under the covers. 

Will was covering him in kisses and Pellinore could barely breathe for the euphoria. 

He knew Will well enough that he know there was something he was preparing to say, he had that little furrow in his brow that spoke of trying to find exactly the right way to phrase something. But Will did not speak and Pellinore did not press him to. If Will was going to tell him that they needed to go their separate ways, he would not rush him along. 

Will, broad and muscular Will, curled unclothed around him was greatly affecting him and he so badly wanted to shift around and kiss him properly. But he could already feel Will falling asleep behind him. 

For the first time in months, Pellinore slept soundly.

### 

He woke up with the morning sun peeking in on them and Will kissing his neck. He could feel Will, hard and very much awake on his hip. He would empty every penny in the bank to wake up like this every morning for the rest of his life.

He groaned, still mostly asleep. As much as he would theoretically like to pounce on Will, his body felt very asleep and unwilling to be aroused. 

He buried his head in his pillow and grumbled, “Tea first, you scoundrel, let me wake up.” 

Will kissed the back of Pellinore’s neck and left him buried in pillow, “Alright, then, if you insist.” 

He heaved himself up and Pellinore peeked from inside his pillows to watch him stretch in the dappled sunlight. 

He stole some of Pellinore’s own clothes that fit him horribly and rang down for the staff to bring up tea. Pellinore was quite thankful that the Port San Carlos had been thoroughly colonized enough to have a decent hotel. 

Pellinore didn’t sit up until he had a tea cup in his hands and a little breakfast in front of him. He sipped his tea and regarded Will who was now sprawled across the foot of the bed. He'd shed Pellinore's clothing and was picking at the breakfast tray quite undressed. 

Now that he was waking a little, Will was becoming increasingly enticing. 

Will looked up at him, his eyes still sleep soft and smiled. He always had such an easy smile. He laughed to himself, “Your hair is turning gray.” 

Pellinore frowned at him, “That was not necessary.” Although it was true, there were streaks of silver at his temples now, “It is only because I have an associate who is so much trouble.” 

Will raised his eyebrow, “An associate?” 

Pellinore looked uncomfortably down at his hands. 

“I like the hair though, Pell, it looks dignified. Especially now when you’re actually a little maintained.” He paused as though gathering courage and ventured, “It’s handsome.” 

Pellinore put down his tea and moved the breakfast tray to the floor, “Come here.” 

Will grinned and put his tea down as well. He wasted no time, pushing Pellinore back by the shoulder and kissing him. It was like his kiss in New York, purposeful, deliberate. His lips and his tongue moved with so much surety. 

Pellinore whimpered underneath him. Will was not letting the opportunity slip between his fingers, his hands were roving over Pellinore’s already undressed body. His nails scraped the insides of Pellinore’s thighs and his hips arched off the bed. 

“Will!” 

Will licked and bit down Pellinore’s jaw, kissing the shell of his ear and down his throat. 

He kissed all the way down Pellinore’s torso, lingering at the slim patches of soft skin that dipped next to his hips. Here he sucked the skin against his teeth until Pellinore cried out. 

“Will! You rake-” he gasped as Will’s explorations took him lower still until he was sliding his mouth down the Pellinore’s length with only the barest moment of hesitation, “Wherever did you learn behavior like this?” 

Will looked up and smirked, “I’ve been reading.” 

“Reading _what_?” 

“Nothing you would approve of.” 

Pellinore bit into his own hand to keep from shouting when Will slid his mouth smoothly onto him again.

“ _Will Henry_ ,” he gasped, his hips jolting up, “Will!” 

Will was not practiced at this, but it had been a long year for them both and his lack of expertise didn’t do much to delay Pellinore screeching into his hand and arching high off the bed. 

Will sat back, coughing, making a foul face. He took Pellinore’s tea cup and knocked back the rest of its cold contents. “You might have warned me.” 

Pellinore was sprawled on the bed, breathing heavily, “What?” 

Will stood up and set Pellinore’s black leather medical case on the table, riffling through it, “I said warn me next time, darling.” 

Pellinore looked over and watched him, “I’m sure you’ve tasted something worse, ” He had heard the term of endearment, it had made his stomach turn over. But he wasn’t sure how to respond to it. 

Will plucked what he was looking for out of the bag and grinned, “Yes, anything you’ve cooked.” 

He strode back to the bed and bent, kissing Pellinore’s scowling face. 

“What have you got there? I’m not sure you really need medical tools for this particular endeavor.” As he always did, he chuckled at his own joke. 

Will opened his palm to show the little tin of vaseline.

Pellinore frowned at it. He knew, of course, what Will intended it for. 

“Have you ever done this before?” 

Will blushed, “No, you have though.” 

Pellinore went just as dark, “With a woman, Will Henry, and she did not require- “ he blushed impossibly darker, “What I mean to say- anatomically-" 

“I understand the anatomical differences between men and women, doctor.” 

“Pellinore,” he corrected. 

Will shrugged, “You were acting like The Doctor.” 

“In any case, Will Henry, I have not done this particular thing with a man.” 

“I thought you went to a boys’ school.” 

Pellinore sighed in exasperation, “Not everything proceeds how it does in those foul books you apparently read, Will Henry! I hardly had friends at boys’ school, let alone someone with whom I would- I would- do that.” 

“I know the basics, come here.” 

Shyly, Pellinore scooted forward and allowed Will to arrange his long legs how he wanted them, “I will admit that it is an eventuality I have considered.” 

Will slicked his fingers in vaseline and teased Pellinore reveling in how it made him shiver. He pitched his voice smokey and low and murmured, “Are you telling me you fantasized, Pellinore? Tell me.” 

Pellinore gasped as Will barely breached him, “Oh! I don’t see- why I ought to indulge you.” 

Careful to move slowly, not wanting to hurt him, Will teased, “But fantasies from a mind as brilliant as your own must be worth hearing.” 

Pellinore whined, even now, doing what Will was doing to him, he couldn’t bring himself to tell his fantasies like stories. So, through whimpers and gasps he just said, “I just want you.” 

Will sighed and his honey eyes were so soft that Pellinore could not look away. Then he found a spot within Pellinore, Will Henry knew his anatomy, he had been hunting for it, that made Pellinore’s head drop back. He moaned desperately. 

It was lucky he had just been seen to for this was the best thing he had ever felt. He was not a young man, it was taking him a little while to recover, but he was certain that if Will continued what he was doing he would be taken care of a second time. 

He gasped at the loss when Will withdrew and pulled him closer. Will bent over him, aligning himself. Slowly, so slowly, with the care he always showed him, he sank into him. 

Pellinore gritted his teeth.

“Are you alright, Pellinore? Am I hurting you?” His voice was so breathless. 

“Stay where you are, give me time.” 

Will laid his forehead against Pellinore’s and nuzzled him, not moving. Finally, Pellinore nodded and Will gently began a most gorgeous movement of his hips. 

Their little gasps mingled and Pellinore nearly felt that the sensations in Will’s body where in his own as well. He had been able to imagine the pleasure that now sparked up his spine and through his belly. But he had not expected what he felt, his arms around Will, holding him close, their faces touching. 

He was here. He was home.

### 

__

“It really is a beautiful house.” 

Pellinore stared at him, “Are you only just realizing?” 

Will smiled, “Well it isn’t like you’ve put work into it. It could use fresh paint, new shutters.” 

“What about grey?” 

Will scoffed, “Dismal, what about white?” 

“Do you want to repaint it every year?” 

“Blue then.” 

“Harrington Lane _blue_!”

“What color do you want then?” 

Pellinore looked at his fingernails, “Blue would be fine.” 

Will flipped him over on the couch and kissed him, nosing at the side of his neck, “What was that?” 

Pellinore squirmed, “I said that blue would be fine.” 

Will kissed softly, “What was that?”

Pellinore tipped back his head, “Blue would be lovely, darling.” 

Will pulled back and looked at him, smiling, “I think so too.” 

A knock fell upon the door.

Will started to get up, but Pellinore held fast, “If we don’t answer they will go away. You’ve stopped kissing me, it was foolish.” 

Will broke free and leapt up anyway, beaming, “Come on, get up!” 

“What could possibly be so important?” Pellinore pouted, feeling cold and abandoned.

“The _remains_ we’ve been waiting for, Pell!” 

“Oh! OH!” Pellinore leapt up after him and they raced to the front door like schoolboys.

### 

“Who could be at the god blasted door?” Pellinore fumed, “It’s the middle of the night.” 

Will smirked at him from the other side of the necropsy table, both of them were covered in blood and viscera to the elbows, “I think it’s morning, love.” 

The term of endearment, as it always did no matter how frequently Will used it, made Pellinore’s heart flutter. He frowned in response, “Fine, we need more tea regardless.” 

They went upstairs together, Will opening the door with Pellinore standing a few feet behind him. 

An uneasy Constable Morgan blinked uneasily at them. Pellinore thought it was a wonder he was not retired yet, he looked very old. His mustache was long and droopy and entirely white. 

“What do you want?” Pellinore barked at the same instant that Will said, “Is there something amiss, Constable?” 

“Oh- Doctors-” he glanced at their bloody hands and gruesome appearances, “You’re still- it’s just this then?” 

“What?” Pellinore asked, irritated. 

“The same 1888 business?” 

“Why would my business have changed?” He barked. 

Will seemed to have grasped something he did not as he was frowning at the Constable, “Why else would I have moved back here, sir, if not to help the good Doctor with his work?” 

“Ah- still his- still his assistant then?” 

“Of course he is not,” Pellinore barked, “You have only just called him a doctor. We work together now.” 

“But still the- still that dark business?” 

“As I have said,” Pellinore growled through gritted teeth. He could not fathom why he was here.

“Only-only a couple people around town have been wondering why- wanted me to make sure- I’ll be going then. If you’re just working on that business.” 

Will nodded, “Of course, sir, someone must.” 

He nodded, “I’ll be off then, farewell, Pellinore, Will.” He turned back with a friendlier smile, “Never thought I’d say this, but the years have treated you well, Pellinore.” 

“Goodbye, Robert.” 

“Goodbye, Pellinore.” 

Will shut the door, “Maybe we aren’t being as discreet as we should be.” 

But Pellinore was not paying attention, he was staring into nothing, his mind whirring. He had not realized, not until he saw Robert. He had not thought. Of course.

He bolted upstairs with Will following him uncertainly. 

“Pell, what the hell is the matter?” 

Pellinore skidded to a stop in front of the washroom mirror, his bloody hands gripping either side of the sink, staring into his crisp reflection. 

“It is my sixtieth birthday in a month and a quarter, Will Henry.” 

“I know, Pell, I’m not the one who forgets birthdays.” 

“ _My sixtieth birthday_.”

“What of it?” 

He turned to face Will, “Do I look a day over forty five?” 

**To Be Continued…**


End file.
